


Vrrrrm Vrrrrm I'm A Helicopter

by Rosencrantz



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Bucky is re-incarnated as a helicopter, Can you make out with a helicopter?, Ghost In The Machine, M/M, accidental murder
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-16
Updated: 2018-09-16
Packaged: 2019-07-04 19:07:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,564
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15847506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rosencrantz/pseuds/Rosencrantz
Summary: Once upon a time there was a young man named Bucky Barnes. He died in a war.As he lay there, bleeding out, he wished to the sky that in his next life he could be something that flew. He was hoping for a beautiful bird. Something like the living gem that was a hummingbird. Or the soaring eagle. Or the swooping swallow.Bucky Barnes woke up as a helicopter.





	Vrrrrm Vrrrrm I'm A Helicopter

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Artemis1000](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Artemis1000/gifts).



> Thank you to Narlyenatvanya for the beta!

Once upon a time there was a young man named Bucky Barnes. He died in a war.

As he lay there, bleeding out, he wished to the sky that in his next life he could be something that flew. He was hoping for a beautiful bird. Something like the living gem that was a hummingbird. Or the soaring eagle. Or the swooping swallow.

Bucky Barnes woke up as a helicopter.

* * *

"This one's been acting up lately," said Jessup Higgins, head mechanic at the military base that Sam Wilson was currently stationed at. He slapped Bucky's side. Bucky sighed, deep inside his engine.

"See? It keeps making that noise! No idea what it is. None," said Jessup Higgins. He crossed his arms. "Some of the men, they reckon it is, y'know, haunted. Like filled with the ghost of his last pilot. Well, its last pilot. Are helicopters like ships? Always a girl?" 

He scratched his hairy chin. "I guess it's a boy now if it's got his last pilot in there though. It was the damndest thing. He just tipped right on his side midair and the guy fell out. And then he landed. Hence, of course, why we think he's haunted. You know, on account of the murder. And flyin' itself."

He waved a large hand expansively at the helicopter. At Bucky.

"And that is why we called you in."

"You called me in to deal with a murder helicopter?" asked Sam, flabbergasted.

"Well, my buddy - he said you're the best counselor he had for his pee tee ess dee ever. With your little talk group. And I thought, well, if there's a pilot in this here helicopter, he's gotta be pretty messed up! Or, you know, if the helicopter's killin' 'cause of being messed up, well, that's where you come in too!" 

"I... I see. So which pilot is in it?" said Sam Wilson. He rested a hand on Bucky's side. Bucky sighed again.

"Hell, there's a lot of dead pilots. Could be any of them in here. Last pilot's soul might've gotten sucked in via the exhaust before he died too. That's up to you, Wilson. Thanks for comin'."

* * *

It wasn't what everyone thought.

It had been a routine fly, to make sure Bucky - who was not Bucky at the time - was in working order. It would have been fine if Bucky hadn't suddenly spontaneously come to life again. If Bucky hadn't felt _someone inside him_.

Now Bucky was grounded, branded as a killer haunted helicopter, and pigeons kept pooping on him.

He yelled at them a lot. To stop. Did the pigeons listen? No. No one could hear Bucky anymore.

Although he suspected the pigeons could. There was a mocking note to their cooing. 

And now some sort of... therapist? Was here for him. Great. They should have sent an exorcist.

* * *

Sam sat beside Bucky and patted his hull. Bucky was, as helicopters go, a very fine looking one. Long elegant lines, powerful propellers, sturdy landing gear. The only thing that marred this most excellent helicopter was the pigeon crap that accumulated on him. 

"Hey, how come no one's cleaning him?" asked Sam. He realized a second later he'd started humanizing the helicopter too, but hell, if he was here to give it therapy for Higgins' crazy theory he might as well get into it, right?

"That thing's a killer!" shouted one of the cleaning crew. She pushed her hat back on her head. "I'm not spending one minute doing anything that might make the ghost go after me next. That chopper could chop off my head! And Chase was a friend of mine, before he got dumped by, again, this ghost. Which murders."

"Yes, thank you," said Sam at her back as she walked off with the hose. "I guess I'm going to have to clean you."

It must have been his imagination, but the helicopter seemed... grateful? When he said that. He ran off after the cleaning crew woman to get the hose. He had other ideas too.

You could say that Sam had his own secrets. Secrets that gave him an in with the pigeons currently terrorizing this helicopter.

* * *

LUXURY, thought Bucky as the new guy, Sam Wilson, hosed off the pigeon crap. The feel of the hose blasting his propeller, spraying clean his side, and even getting the awkward bits on his landing gear was the best feeling he'd had since he got back from the deep sleep that must have been the land of the dead. Or wherever you went before you woke up as a helicopter. 

The whole time Sam sprayed him down, getting every crevice, Sam talked. Sam had a lot of things to say on the subject of coming to terms with grief, which Bucky realized he appreciated. He hadn't _meant_ to kill his pilot and he sure wasn't happy he'd done it. 

He liked that Sam was trying to comfort him, instead of giving him a sharp kick as he walked by or the sign of the cross, like the rest of the people on the military base.

"There, how's that?" said Sam, running a hand over Bucky's hull. Oh, that felt nice too! "All nice and clean. And now I'm gonna do something you can't tell anyone about, okay?"

 _Who am I gonna tell?_ said Bucky.

Sam looked at Bucky sharply, then shook his head. "Man, today is just weird..." 

Sam ran a hand over his short-cut hair and looked up at the rafters. 

Then he started talking to the pigeons. Little things. Asking them how their day was. How their squabs were. How was the pickings? Would they like the meal of their lives in exchange for one little favour? 

"Yeah, you guys, I'll give you french fries, bird seed, the whole shebang," Sam was saying. "All I need you to do is to leave this one helicopter alone, okay? Use the general's car or something instead. He's going through some hard times." 

Bucky did not appreciate that little laugh at the end of the sentence, but was amazed when the pigeons... flew away so they weren't nesting directly over him anymore. 

_How the HECK did you do that?_ said Bucky.

Sam's head whipped around.

"That was you!" he exclaimed.

_Who was what where when?, said Bucky, completely confused. Was someone else in the hangar with them? But he couldn't 'see' anyone, for lack of a better word of how Bucky perceived the world._

"You! You're a... aw man. I guess I can talk to anything that flies," said Sam.

 _You're talking to ME_ gaped Bucky.

"Of course I'm talking to you! Okay, copter, confess. Why did you kill that guy?" said Sam.

 _I didn't kill him! I just freaked out! I had a person inside my stomach!_ confessed Bucky. It felt good to tell someone what had happened, finally. _One moment I was dying after falling out of a train, the next minute I'm in the air with a GUY IN MY CHEST_.

Sam rested a hand on Bucky's hull. Bucky hummed his engine, just a tiny bit.

"Okay, okay. I hear you and I believe you. You have a name?"

_Bucky. Bucky Barnes._

"Okay, Bucky. I think that we're gonna need more than a hose off therapy session. Are you okay with that?"

 _Please get me the hell out of here_ , said Bucky.

"I've got an idea," said Sam.

* * *

Bucky Barnes. Decorated soldier. Reincarnated helicopter. 

And flier. 

That night he took to the skies - proppers roaring, soaring above the military base. No terror this time, no confusion. Just pure flight. 

Completely unmanned.

It was Sam's idea. Prove there was a ghost in the machine. 

They'd planned it for an entire week. How to make sure the doors were open. That Bucky had enough fuel. Sam had brought Bucky's military record one day and they talked about Bucky's former life. Sam introduced Bucky to the pigeons. 

They talked that week. A lot.

"Damndest thing," said Higgins as he'd watched them. But that's what he'd brought Sam for, so that was all he said on the matter.

"You were smoking," said Sam the afternoon before the big night, looking at Bucky's old service photo.

 _No, tobacco smelled terrible_ , said Bucky. Sam let his hand rest on Bucky's hull just the way Bucky liked and laughed.

"Tonight you fly," said Sam.

Bucky roared across the skies, his helicopter body silhouetted against the full moon.

He landed before he had to be shot down, but there was no doubting Higgins' story now.

Bucky had gotten his wish. He flew.

* * *

And that, my friends, is how an entire military helicopter got installed in the front lawn of Sam's workplace as an 'art piece', because Sam regretfully had to tell Jessup Higgins that the helicopter was, indeed, haunted. 

It was no coincidence that Sam would take his lunches in the shade of Bucky, talking to the helicopter for many many years after that. And that Sam never married after the helicopter was moved to its new home. And a considerably strange rumour about someone catching Sam kissing the nose of the helicopter.

The tale of the murderous helicopter that could fly itself got embellished many times over the years at the military base, but one detail would always stay the same: From that day forward, the pigeons would never again poop on a helicopter.


End file.
